What Makes Them Who They Are Today
by IvoryRaven2
Summary: A serious view of the CSI’s in high school. Everyone gets their POV included. 1st chapter: Gil 2nd chapter: Greg 3rd chapter: Nick 4th chapter: Warrick 5th chapter: Catherine
1. Gil

Rating: G (So far at least)  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Too bad.  
  
Summary: A REALISTIC view of the CSI's in high school. No relationships, and everyone gets their POV included. Including Greg. I'm basically following one CSI as they come into contact with one another. I don't know if that's very clear at all but.  
  
I made up (most) of the stuff about their past, and I have no idea where this school is, but somewhere where it's cold in the winter. Please review, I need encouragement!  
  
What Makes Them Who They Are Today?  
  
20 minutes until class, and the halls were already teeming with people. Many students were heading for their lockers, with their winter jackets still zipped up against the biting wind outside. Others were lined up against the walls, chatting with one another. Rumors were passed, and undone homework was hurriedly being copied down. But not everyone was contributing to the ruckus of young voices.  
  
Gil Grissom was one such person. Although he was new at this school, he was familiar with the customs and rituals that are preformed at them all. Always moving around the country had accustomed him to being the "new kid". It had also taught him not to become too attached to any one place or person.  
  
Gil was always trying to learn more, inside the classroom and out. He observed everything, and everyone. Many times he tried to make conclusions based on these observations. Unfortunately many times his conclusions were wrong, especially when they were based on observations of person. People were something Gil did not understand.  
  
Walking through the busy hallway, Gil unzipped his coat, and pulled down the furry hood. He'd been here for half of a year now, and still no one had accepted him into their "group". He wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not. He knew he'd most likely have to leave this school at the end of the year. Again. If anybody had asked him where he was from he wouldn't know what to say. Gil had learned over the years not to think of any place as home. Just as he'd learned not to think of anyone as a friend.  
  
Gil continued down the corridor to his locker. He kept his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, his ears listening for gossip. Gossip was his most recent interest. He'd been trying to understand the human mind, at first as a whole, but after that didn't work he'd tried to analyze the small parts that make up the mind. Maybe he was going about it wrong. Maybe he needed to first understand the emotions that could drive the brain to make illogical decisions...  
  
His eyes picked out someone... different in the distance. It was that kid, the one he'd seen before. Gil had first spotted him out because he was quiet. There were of course a few shy kids in school, and none of them special enough to warrant further observation. But this kid... Most shy kids usually found a group to hang out in by the end of the first few weeks. This one... This one reminded him of himself. Halfway through the year and he still didn't seem to have any friends.  
  
The kid was drawing closer. He had brown hair, which was partially covered by the hood of his sweatshirt, as well as brown eyes. Deep brown eyes. Gil sweared someone could drown in them. Those eyes looked as if they were brimming with tears, though none could ever be seen streaming down the kids face. The young face was watching his feet, and he had a serious slouching problem.  
  
Depressed. That was the word, depressed. The kid was right in front of Gil, and he suddenly had the urge to reach out to the boy. He was morbidly curious about his reasons for being so depressed. He'd never had a chance to observe someone so deep in anger, and sadness. So he reached without thinking, forgetting temporarily his own shyness.  
  
Gil grabbed the boy's shoulder just as they were passing, and turned himself so they were heading the same direction. The boy looked up in surprise. Gil thought for a moment. Now that he had taken the chance, he didn't know what to say. He settled for, "Hey."  
  
The kid, still stunned into stupidity replied, "Hey." He retuned his gaze to the floor.  
  
Gil was now on a roll. The kid didn't seem mad at him, he was doing fine. "Umm, yeah so, what's up?" The slang words rolled strangely off his tongue.  
  
"Nothing, alright! Why are you talking to me anyways?" The boy tuned so he was facing Gil.  
  
"I..."  
  
"Just leave me alone!"  
  
The eyes burned with anger, even hate. Why does he hate me though, Gil thought. I didn't do anything to him. He'd have to think it over later.  
  
"Wait, just... What's your name?"  
  
The kid glowered at him one more time, then turned. He took two steps, then stopped. He sighed. Not turning, he replied, "Greg." He resumed his slouching walk, soon disappearing into the crowd.  
  
Gil stared after him for a moment or two, then turned back toward his locker.  
  
TBC...  
  
Review please! I might not post the next part if you don't!  
  
Eat when you're hungry,  
  
Sleep when you're tired,  
  
Drink when you're thirsty,  
  
Write when inspired.  
  
~Just a poem I wrote. I think it sums up my opinion about writing perfectly. 


	2. Greg

Rating: G (So far at least)  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Too bad.  
  
Summary: A REALISTIC view of the CSI's in high school. No relationships, and everyone gets their POV included. Including Greg. I'm basically following one CSI as they come into contact with one another. I don't know if that's very clear at all but.  
  
I made up (most) of the stuff about their past, and I have no idea where this school is, but somewhere where it's cold in the winter. Please review, I need encouragement!  
  
What Makes Them Who They Are Today (Part 2)  
  
The floor had never been so interesting. Greg had been studying it for half the year now, and today there were random patterns made up of the gray tiles, and footprints of dirty water and half melted snow. He sped up his walk, and watched as the puddles disappeared beneath his snow boots.  
  
His encounter with the older kid didn't go too badly. When he'd first approached Greg, he'd wanted to run away, far away. Unfortunately, he'd been stunned into silence, and his mother's preaching about being polite echoed through his head.  
  
His mother. His family. His family... He'd never really thought of them as much of a family. An outcast in his own home, he'd always get into fights with his sister. But she shared her Halloween candy with him anyways. He'd always thought his father was far too strict. That he favored his sister over him. But he had a funny side to him as well. He taught Greg so much. And his mother... His mother was the quietest person he knew. And the sweetest. He missed her. He missed all of them, even his sister.  
  
Greg pulled the hood of his sweatshirt lower. He felt his eyes burning, as they often did, but he blinked the tears away. Sometimes he wished he'd died with the rest of his family.  
  
Greg forced himself to relive that day as he had many times since it occurred. Little by little, he was desensitizing himself. His nightmares continued, but at least he didn't wake up screaming anymore.  
  
The day started just like any other day. The sun rose, Greg and his sister were sent off to school, and his dad drove to work. To this day Greg didn't know why his father always refused to drive them to school, instead leaving him and his sister to walk. School went by like usual. Greg hung out with his friends afterwards. Together they celebrated the end of the year. Only a few more days and they would be out for the summer.  
  
That night was beautiful. Greg remembered that well because he'd escaped outside at around 9. His sister and mother were talking about leg waxing, hair cutting, and jewelry choosing, and he didn't really want to get involved. He'd have gone on the computer, but his dad was "working". He was typing furiously on the keyboard, while simultaneously talking to one of his business associates on the phone. The stars showed clearly, and the sky was a bright blue that almost glowed despite the late hour. Greg wanted to imagine the weather as stormy and dark, as a sort of foreshadowing of the things to come. Real life is very rarely that dramatic.  
  
Sometime around 11 Greg fell asleep.  
  
And woke up to a shout, then a loud bang.  
  
His eyes flew open, and disoriented, he rolled off of the bed. The resulting thump shook the whole house. He listened carefully, and heard footsteps on the stairs. They weren't any of his family's. Greg had long ago learned each of his family's footsteps. His fathers were slow, and strong. His mothers were light, and you couldn't hear them unless you were listening. His sister's were fast and surprisingly loud. These footsteps were very slow and soft, like the person didn't want anybody to hear. The steps groaned under the stranger's feet, leading Greg to believe he was a man, and that he wasn't familiar with creaky spots of the old stairs.  
  
Greg was now completely certain that the intruder was hostile. And the bang he'd heard... It might have been a gunshot. He'd never actually seen a gun before, other than his grandfather's old rifles. He'd certainly never heard one being shot. Guns were something he'd associated with TV shows, not something that might pose a threat in real life. The shout... The shout sounded like his father's.  
  
Greg finally snapped out of his daze when the footsteps came to rest at the top of the stairs. He was still lying on the floor when the footsteps continued down the hall. They were getting closer, and closer. Greg quickly rolled under the bed, scraping his shoulder in the process. The steps were louder now. They passed by his room, and Greg thanked God that he always kept his door closed. But he also knew that his parents and sister didn't. Thump, thump, thump. They headed for his parents room.  
  
Not even a shout this time. Just the loud bang that seemed to echo again, and again in Greg's mind. He wanted to cry out for his mother, to yell and scream and kill the stranger over, and over, over. But he wouldn't.  
  
Because he was scared out of his mind, and he didn't have the courage to face the man who'd killed his mother and father. He only hoped his sister would stay quiet. He had an image of his sister hiding under her bed as he was, scared just as much as he was. But his hopes were crushed as soon as he heard his sister's voice, still drowsy with sleep.  
  
"Hey, guys! Would you just shut up? I'm trying to sleep!" He could almost see his sister's huge yawn. Greg clenched his fists, and bit his lip until it bled. He heard his sister one more time.  
  
"Hey- Who are-" *BANG*  
  
Greg's fingernails dug into his own skin. He fought to control his breath, which seemed to make so much noise in the emptiness. He let go of his lip, and bit the back of his hand when the door to his room opened. The light flicked on, and he was sure that his heartbeat could be heard from across the room, let alone his smothered sobs. The murderer's feet moved into Greg's line of view. He swallowed the bile coming up his throat, and tried not to breathe. The sneakers moved slowly, so slowly, coming to rest right in front of the bed. The killer kneeled, and Greg almost wanted to just give himself up and get it over with. Instead of peering underneath the bed as Greg had expected, the man touched the spot where he'd been sleeping, as if to check if it was still warm.  
  
The feet suddenly jumped over to the closet, opening the door. Greg watched as his clothes ended up on the floor, teared from hangers and shelves. Once the man was finished searching the closet, he stood still for a moment, and Greg imagined him surveying the room one last time. His eyes followed the white running shoes as they once again cam to stop next to the bed. Another long pause, and the man finally left, flicking the light back off on his way out.  
  
Greg stayed completely motionless for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he gathered the courage to venture out from his hiding spot. He tried to stand up, but his legs were severely cramped. He rested a minute or two, then somehow made his way to the phone. He was surprisingly calm as he dialed 911.  
  
Later, the police told him that it looked like a burglary gone wrong, judging by a few missing items. Greg believed otherwise. Why would a burglar come upstairs if he could have gotten away with the loot? It made no sense. The police were trying to justify this with excuses. Maybe the burglar was bloodthirsty, or maybe just stupid. Greg didn't think anybody could be that stupid. And as for bloodthirsty? Bloodthirsty is what you see on TV shows.  
  
Greg blinked the tears away, shoving them to the back of his mind to be dealt with some other day. He wondered how such a story could be recounted in only half a minute or so. Chemistry class was next, he used to love chemistry. Maybe someday he'd love it as he once did. But not yet.  
  
Greg, still watching his booted feet, bumped his shoulder into someone. The person shouted out, not in a scared wordless shout like his father, but a laughing shout.  
  
"Hey man! Watch where you're going!"  
  
Greg ignored the guy's yell, and continued down the hallway. Maybe someday he'd be just as happy and carefree as that kid was. Maybe. But he still missed his family badly. So badly. He knew that nothing could bring them back, and the best he could do was join them.  
  
And even though the thought of suicide had entered his mind on many occasions, Greg had never gone through with it. He tried to convince himself he was just waiting until the right moment. That he was waiting for the perfect opportunity. But maybe his will to live was just too strong, even in his deep depression.  
  
Maybe.  
  
TBC...  
  
Mia- I totally agree about that reading when bored thing! Sure, use the poem wherever you'd like!  
  
Super trooper- I know! I got sick of all the silly CSI High kind of stories, so I decided to do a more realistic one.  
  
Iheartcsi- I know! I really need to make the chapters longer! I'm trying, I'm trying!  
  
All Greg fans- I am a huge Greg fan as well! Unfortunately, this story is going to cover a chapter for each character, so it's not all Greg. How its goes is that Gil bumps into Greg who bumps into. well I won't tell you yet. It's the guy who shouted at him. It's not too hard to guess who it is but. I don't want to spoil it! I'm writing this with all the CSI characters so that all the character fans will be happy. I'm trying to make it so that the reader doesn't have to read any of the other chapters to understand the one about their favorite character.  
  
Here's another poem:  
  
My Nightmare,  
  
Haunting me every waking hour,  
  
And those not waking.  
  
The Others back away,  
  
As I Change,  
  
Becoming only a shadow,  
  
Of my Nightmare.  
  
I think this sort of relates to how Greg's behavior has been affected by the night his family was killed, and how he pushed his friends away from him when he got more and more depressed. Or maybe it's just an excuse to exhibit more of my poetry. I don't know, you decide. 


	3. Nick

Rating: G (So far at least)  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I wish.  
  
Summary: A REALISTIC view of the CSI's in high school. No relationships, and everyone gets their POV included. Including Greg. I'm basically following one CSI as they come into contact with one another. I don't know if that's very clear at all but.  
  
I made up (most) of the stuff about their past, and I have no idea where this school is, but somewhere where it's cold in the winter. Please review, I need encouragement!  
  
Laughing. Why was he laughing? What was so hilariously funny? Nick listened to himself continue to laugh. He wasn't really in control of his actions. If he was he would never laugh again.  
  
Some kid barreled into him, and he wanted to get angry at him. Wanted take all his anger and focus it at this one guy. But he wouldn't. Because he was perfect. Instead, he shouted at the guy, in a joking manner of course. "Hey man! Watch where you're going!" He laughed out loud. Again.  
  
He turned back to his "friend" to continue sharing one of his stupid stories. They always ended with Nick laughing. Always. He never failed to get a laugh out of someone. He didn't know what was so special about him that made people chuckle at his jokes. All he did was put on the mask that was Nick. That was perfect. They all thought he was perfect. Well he wasn't. Not at all. Inside... Inside he was somebody totally different.  
  
He motioned with his hands, acting almost like a stand up comedian. Nick reached the punch line of his story, and burst out laughing, along with his "friend". His "friend" continued to giggle long after the story had been finished, then finally got herself under control.  
  
"Hey, um, Nick." She began, "I was, uh, wondering if you were free to go to the dance with me. I mean, not like a date-date, but just like a date, you know?"  
  
Nick froze. It wasn't as if this was abnormal or anything, but whenever a girl would flirt with him -or ask him out like this one had- Nick would pause to really look at that girl. Those long painted nails which would scrape across his back, leaving physical scars, but far deeper mental ones. That long soft hair that would suffocate him with its weight. That perfectly smooth skin that would burn him wherever it touched.  
  
He knew that he shouldn't be afraid anymore. That he was so much stronger than this one teenaged girl. He knew that. But it didn't matter. It wasn't physical strength, but mental strength that he was afraid of. It was the remembrance of the power the baby-sitter had had over him that kept him from participating in anything that had a romantic angle to it. One thing could lead to another, and if he finally got the chance to get involved with someone, he wasn't sure if he could keep himself from taking it.  
  
He desperately wanted to break away from his "perfect" self, and maybe confronting his fears was the way to do that. On the other hand, his "perfect" self guaranteed him a large circle of friends and if he finally did take off his mask he wondered if any of them would like him anymore. Would he just be left behind when all of his "friends" left him for some other perfect person?  
  
Nick came back to the present, "I'm really sorry..." he paused, trying to remember her name, "but I don't even know if I can make it to the dance tonight... Please understand."  
  
What's-her-name looked disappointed for all of a second, then a small smile appeared on her face, "Oh that's ok, I understand. Really, I do!"  
  
Nick smiled back, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to. Bye!"  
  
"Bye!"  
  
He waved goodbye then pushed off of the lockers, his mind not on going to class, but on getting as far away from her as possible.  
  
Continuing through the hallway, Nick noticed a disruption forming up ahead. He pushed through the thickening crowd until he could see what was happening. Two guys stood facing each other, glaring. One was at least a foot taller than the other, and Nick recognized him as Matt, one of the school's bullies. He also knew the shorter kid, one of his many "friends". Warrick wasn't quite as... obsessive as the rest of them though. That was probably why Nick didn't hang out with him as much as the others.  
  
Whether Nick knew Warrick well or not didn't matter, he was Mr. Dependable, and was required to act that way.  
  
He stepped between the two of them. He faced Matt, holding up his hands in a reassuring way. "Woah man, calm down. What's going on here?"  
  
Matt's mouth opened to reply, but Warrick beat him to it. "Just get out of the way! He deserves to get beaten up."  
  
"You couldn't beat me up if-"  
  
Nick had to physically restrain the two guys to keep them from pummeling each other. "Hey!" Nick interrupted, "Warrick, why does he deserve to get beaten up?"  
  
Warrick was seething with anger, "He insulted my grandmother, that's why!"  
  
Matt sneered, "Yeah, well your old-"  
  
"Enough! I really don't want to be a snitch here, but if you're going to insist on fighting I'll be forced to tell a teacher. Alright?"  
  
"Yeah, alright." They both mumbled.  
  
"Good." Nick let them go. When he saw that they weren't trying to kill each other anymore, he turned to leave. He'd only gone a few feet when Warrick caught up to him.  
  
"Hey... Thanks for breaking our fight up. I didn't really want to fight you know. I just..."  
  
"Wanted to let all your anger out?" Nick didn't know why but he felt that maybe he could trust Warrick. He barely even knew him, yet he wanted to tell Warrick everything. It would be a bit much to dump that on Warrick all at once, but maybe Nick could just show a bit of his real self to Warrick. Consider it a test to see if he could manage to have friends without being perfect.  
  
"Yeah... something like that..." Warrick's voice had now dropped to a very soft tone. They both walked in silence for a moment or two. Warrick finally broke the heavy silence. "So, are you going to the dance tonight?"  
  
Nick had learned lots of things about lying, and one of the most important rules was to always keep your lies consistent. "I'm not sure if I can make it or not..."  
  
"Oh c'mon, it'll be fun!"  
  
"Yeah... Fun..." Nick looked down at his feet.  
  
"Is it just that you can't dance?"  
  
Nick didn't say anything.  
  
"That's it isn't it! You have two left feet so u don't want to come! You don't even have to actually dance with anyone if you don't want to you know."  
  
Nick's head came up to look Warrick in the face, "I don't? Isn't that what a dance is about?"  
  
"Well, mostly, but if you don't want to, you could just hang out with me and listen to the music."  
  
"Won't you be dancing as well?"  
  
"Yeah right, it's not like I have much of a chance of getting anyone to dance with me." He gestured to his thick glasses.  
  
Nick smiled at Warrick, "I'll see if I can make it."  
  
"I look forward to seeing you there!" Warrick glanced at the upcoming split in the hallway, "Well, here's my turn. See ya!"  
  
"See ya!"  
  
Nick continued down the hallway, still smiling to himself. His test had been successful. Now he couldn't wait until the dance where he could hang out with Warrick, his only real friend.  
  
Telling the world how I feel.  
  
To shout out,  
  
My purpose,  
  
My name,  
  
My meaning,  
  
My claim.  
  
How my life seems so unreal.  
  
Showing the world how I see.  
  
To point out,  
  
The horrors,  
  
The tears,  
  
The anger,  
  
The fears.  
  
How no one really is free.  
  
Here's another poem for you! I think that this could be about how Nick really wants to escape his perfect self. But you know, I wrote this before I even had the idea for this story so.. It could mean a lot of things.  
  
Everyone: I'm so sorry this took so long! I've been away on vacation and I forgot to tell you! Oh, I feel so bad now. Please keep up the encouragement! I know that my high school is kind of stereotypical, but I go to an all girls private school so.. I don't really know what it's like. But it's so weird, even though I go to an all girls school I find guys easiest to write. It's that weird? I don't get it..  
  
A Bloom: Yes you're correct! (Well, you've already figured that out by now) About Greg and Sara getting along, I'm going to write one chapter for each character, then one where they all meet at the dance.  
  
Kady Rilla Wholi: I see we both share the same clumsiness as well! *Tries to nod in agreement but ends up banging her head against the monitor * I have the order in which they all run into each other all planned out, and I'm sorry to say that Sara comes last. Last, but not least.. Definitely not least..  
  
Charming-Storm: I admit that "those silly other high-school fics" are also pretty entertaining at times. Unfortunately, Catherine is probably going to be the hardest for me to write about. We all have our favourite characters, and Catherine just isn't one of mine. I'm still going to try though! I just have to do a bit of research first..  
  
iheartcsi: I'm working hard on lengthening the chapters. Need to think up more stuff.. *Goes off into a trance-like stupor *  
  
Elina: I agree that the whole high-school idea is usually not very well written. Hmmm.. sounds like a cool movie. I haven't seen it yet. Is it any good? And what's it called? Maybe I'll go rent it. You don't have to be sorry about that ranting thing, I do it all the time!  
  
Mia: The kid he ran into, (which was Nick as you now know), doesn't really have anything to do with Greg, it just seemed like a good way for a transition between the two characters.  
  
If anybody is still reading this.. go review! Oh, and also tell me if you like this personalized reply to most of your reviews. If you didn't get replied to, I'm sorry. I just don't want this review-reply thing to take up more space than the actual chapter. 


	4. Warrick

Rating: G (So far at least)  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I wish.  
  
Summary: A REALISTIC view of the CSI's in high school. No relationships, and everyone gets their POV included. Including Greg. I'm basically following one CSI as they come into contact with one another. I don't know if that's very clear at all but.  
  
I made up (most) of the stuff about their past, and I have no idea where this school is, but somewhere where it's cold in the winter. Please review, I need encouragement!  
  
The weight seemed to push down on him, and Warrick wished he could just sink into the floor. He fiddled with his thick glasses, the object of his torture. This ashamed feeling wasn't new. He couldn't ever remember a time where the glasses did weigh down on him. He could almost feel everyone else's eyes staring at him. He felt like he had a giant bulls eye plastered across his forehead whenever he had them on, a prime target to bully.  
  
He did know how to handle himself, he was sure he could've taken Matt on. And although he hadn't really wanted to fight... he knew that the only way to get people to leave him alone was to prove that he could fight. And he could fight well. Because while others may be taller, or weigh more, or were more muscled, Warrick had first hand experience.  
  
He came back to his senses long enough to check where he was. Still plenty of time to reminisce. He looked back to the floor and his glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them back up, only to have them slip again. He gave up on them and just left them there.  
  
First hand experience. Such a neat and tidy phrase that referred to all of his very messy, usually painful, battles. Most of them weren't worth the trouble. Like he'd told Nick, he didn't really want to fight. But when you spend so much time on the streets you make enemies very easily. And why did he spend so much time on the streets? The simplest answer? Money. An explanation? His job, as a runner for the casinos.  
  
Running was fairly easy. You get the bet from "The Man" in your earpiece. You place the bet in the casinos. You get paid. Easy right? Not so easy.  
  
All the runners were always fighting for the upper hand, himself included. But unlike many of the others, he wouldn't try to kill anyone to get it. He had to defend his route, as well as his life, by fighting. Only once had he had a very, very close call.  
  
Most of his fights had been one on one, and were as fair as street fights could get. But one time... He'd gotten jumped late at night on the way to a casino. Not that unusual, but this time, his assailant had a gun. Warrick knew very well that he should've died that day.  
  
The guy walked up to him, pointing the gun. Warrick noticed that he was as old as him, maybe even younger, and that his hand was shaking. The other noticed this as well and raised his other hand to steady it. He was in the middle of the street when the car came.  
  
One of its headlights had broken, and Warrick wondered for one dazed second if this was the light at the end of the tunnel. The dark shape rammed into the other runner, tossing him onto the windshield. Later, Warrick relived the crack he heard over and over. And still he wondered if it had come from a snapping leg, or a fractured skull.  
  
He didn't stick around to find out. He paused for a second after it'd happened, just as the driver probably did. Then he bolted, hoping no one had seen him. He was very thankful that he'd walked on the sidewalk, just like his grandmother had always told him to.  
  
Ah, yes, his grandmother. Sometimes he thought that she was the only reason he had to live, other times he felt that she was the most annoying person in the world, but that was very rarely. His grandmother had been his savior, the only person he could always count on. She'd taken him in after his mother died, but even before then they'd been close.  
  
She'd been the one that patiently explained to him that no, he didn't have a father. His mother hadn't had the courage to tell him herself. Warrick guessed that his mom was of the opinion that if she didn't talk about it, it didn't happen in the first place. He wasn't sure what happened between his mother and father, but he did know that he must've left when Warrick was very young. He couldn't even remember what his dad looked like.  
  
Everything was fine in his life until his mother died when he was seven. His grades were good, no one teased him about his glasses, and he even had friends. His life was perfect, his dreams unclouded, his mind still filled with a child's innocence. Until the car crash at least.  
  
He could still remember it perfectly, even after so many years. He and his mother were heading home after a late-night baseball game. Those baseball games were one of the few things that brought his mom and him together for some much needed quality time. They got in the car, and left for the house they shared with his grandmother. Only later did he remember that his mom had forgotten to put on her seatbelt. Warrick was looking out the window when he spotted a fast food place, advertising a giant ice cream sundae. Predictably, he eagerly asked his mother if he could get something, and proceeded to describe in minute detail exactly how hungry he was, and what would happen if he didn't get something to eat. Predictably, his mom turned to give him a big fat no.  
  
She never got the chance.  
  
Just then a car came careening around a corner. Still facing him, his mom only had time for her eyes to widen, then for her face to twist in a wordless scream. A crushing impact then darkness.  
  
Predictably, it was a drunk driver. He'd heard a lot about them, seen a few accidents caused by them before, but never did he think that one might happen to him. They did catch the driver and put him away in jail, but that didn't change the fact that his mother was dead.  
  
After that night everything changed. Well, everything but the kindness of his grandmother. The only way that Warrick could have dreamless sleep was if he exhausted himself completely before hand. At first he'd done this easily enough with a jog around the block before he went to sleep. But eventually his body adjusted and he had to run farther and farther before he could get to sleep. He took up boxing. He'd go to the gym to practice late at night, the punching bag his favorite exercise. He'd take out all his anger on it. Hitting it over, and over, and over. He noticed that after he was at it for a while he'd go into a sort of trance. His whole world would be made up of him, his gloves, and the punching bag.   
  
He also tried team sports, but that didn't go so well. He just couldn't get that same trance-like feeling when he was playing with other people around.  
  
Only one other thing reproduced that feeling. Piano. He'd taken piano lessons for as long as he could remember, but after his mom's death he came at them with a new ferocity. When he could finally play that new piece perfectly... that was the best feeling he'd ever had. When he was playing he didn't really think about it. His fingers knew exactly what to do, and his mind was free to just listen to the music. It was one of the two ways that he could release all of his anger.  
  
He was only 7 though. So much anger couldn't survive in such a small child. He'd been going one-on-one with the punching bag, just like he did every night, when he just... broke. One second he was furiously punching, the next he was clinging to the bag just to stay upright, crying like he never had before. All his anger left him that night to be replaced by... what? Resolution? Grief? Maybe a bit of both.  
  
Warrick paused in his reflection to take a look at where he was. Seeing the other kids reminded him of his fight with Matt. And his short conversation with Nick afterwards.  
  
He still was wondering how Nick understood that he might want to let his anger out on Matt. He didn't really, not on an actual person, but he couldn't expect Nick to understand about the pecking order, and how you had to prove yourself. What he really wanted to know, is how come Nick, Nick of all people, would want to take out his anger on someone. Now, Warrick didn't hang out with him or anything, but he did know that Nick was pretty much perfect. He had good grades, good looks, and a good sense of humor.  
  
What could cause any anger in his life? Warrick left the topic alone for the moment. He wasn't going to start delving into Nick's private life the first time he really talked to him.  
  
"Yeah... something like that..."  
  
There was a heavy silence after Warrick made his softly spoken reply. Franticly he searched for anything to talk about, anything at all. Ah, the dance was a good topic.  
  
"So, are you going to the dance tonight?"  
  
"I'm not sure if I can make it or not..."  
  
Immediately after he'd asked if Nick was coming he regretted saying anything about it. Nick's half-mumbled answer showed that he didn't really want to talk about it.  
  
Warrick knew that he should've kept quiet, changed the subject, anything other than what he did end up saying. But, the curiosity about Nick from earlier made him push to see more of the "real" Nick.  
  
"Oh c'mon, it'll be fun!"  
  
He could barely make out Nick's reply, seeing as it was being said to his shoes.  
  
"Yeah... Fun..."  
  
Warrick didn't want to cause this sad, depressed Nick anymore. He spared Nick the need to bare his soul any further with a silly, implausible explanation.  
  
"Is it just that you can't dance?"  
  
Nick didn't say anything, as if testing to see if another revealing reply would be needed to answer Warrick.  
  
Warrick continued with the supposedly revealing explanation of Nick's fear of the dance. He hoped that Nick would just think that that's what Warrick actually believed. He knew that something much deeper was going on here, and Nick just wasn't ready to tell him yet. He extended his answer to include an intro to an invitation.  
  
"That's it isn't it! You have two left feet so you don't want to come! You don't even have to actually dance with anyone if you don't want to."  
  
"I don't? Isn't that what a dance is about?"  
  
Warrick wondered how Nick could be so smart about some things, but so dumb about others. Most people knew that a dance was basically a big party. He wondered if Nick didn't know, because he'd never been to a dance before.  
  
"Well, mostly, but if you don't want to, you could just hang out with me and listen to the music."  
  
"Won't you be dancing as well?"  
  
Warrick recalled this part with his glasses weighing down on him more than usual.  
  
"Yeah right, it's not like I have much of a chance of getting anyone to dance with me."  
  
He also wondered how he could joke about one of his greatest grievances.  
  
"I'll see if I can make it."  
  
"I look forward to seeing you there!"  
  
They'd exchanged their farewells and went their separate ways.  
  
Warrick came back to reality and looked up, just in time to run into a girl head on. And not just any girl. It was THE girl. The one that everyone talked about, that everyone lusted over. Well, all of the guys he knew anyway. She had dirty blonde hair, and wide expressive eyes, with a figure to die for. And she was tall. A bit too tall if you asked him. She was just the right height for him to run right into her chest.  
  
He'd never been so embarrassed in her life. He flushed red and hoped his dark skin would hide it. Mumbling an apology, Warrick walked swiftly away. Once he was sufficiently distanced from the girl, he thought about what had just happened.  
  
And all he could think of was that Nick would've done so much better than him. Nick would've said sorry clearly, for everyone to hear. And he wouldn't have to run away. Nick would have stayed to chat with her.  
  
Immediately he caught a hold of himself. What was he thinking? Nick wasn't perfect, no one was. Maybe he just needed to spend a bit more time with Nick so that he could really be sure of that..  
  
He'd finally arrived at his destination - the chemistry room. He slowed to stand just outside the closed door. Fiddling with his ever-present glasses, Warrick shifted from foot to foot nervously. He wiped his clammy hands on his jeans, then opened the door and walked inside.  
  
His head was held high, even with the tremendous weight of his glasses.  
  
Everyone: Listen everybody, 'cause I need your help! Big time! I did some research on Catherine (which is coming up next you might have guessed), and nothing really happens to her until she's 20 (That's when she started her stripping to pay for college). Now I've been reaching deep into my big-bag- o-bad things, but I can't find anything that's really suitable for Catherine. Addiction? Catherine does get a Heroine addiction after her relationship with Eddie, but I can't see her falling for that twice in her life. Same thing with an abusive relationship. And it just doesn't seem in character for her to have low self-esteem. Can anyone think of anything at all that might work? Otherwise either the next chapter will be very short and boring, or it might not get written at all. Help!  
  
A Bloom: I'm not going to include any romance, so no Geek Love for you to worry about!  
  
Csifan2000: Yes, I do know that this whole high school thing would never have actually happened, but. What can I say? I was looking for someway that the chapters could flow together reasonably well, and I also wanted the last chapter to have all the characters interacting.  
  
Sorry I didn't write personalized replies for every one of you, but I really wanted to get this out there soon. Thank you all for your reviews! 


	5. Catherine

Rating: G (So far at least)  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I wish.  
  
Summary: A REALISTIC view of the CSI's in high school. No relationships, and everyone gets their POV included. Including Greg. I'm basically following one CSI as they come into contact with one another. I don't know if that's very clear at all but.  
  
I made up (most) of the stuff about their past, and I have no idea where this school is, but somewhere where it's cold in the winter. Please review, I need encouragement!  
  
And everyone, I'm sorry about the big block of text that I didn't paragraph. (You'll see what I mean.) I find it hard to read blocks of text like that, but I find that it helps if I highlight it bit by bit. It's not the whole story, just a small part that's not paragraphed, so you won't have to do too much. I do have a good reason though.  
  
She saw him coming. Yes she did, but still she didn't move out of his way. There were two reasons for this. One was that she was very preoccupied, as her mind was still trying to come to terms with something she'd read. The other reason was because she assumed *he* would get out of *her* way.  
  
When he bumped into her she finally was shaken out of her stupor. She heard his mumbled apology, but she wasn't able to say anything to him before he was already walking swiftly away. She came to a shocking realization, the second this day.  
  
Catherine looked down at herself, really looked. She didn't like what she saw. She was wearing tight mini-shorts, and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination. As she continued on towards her destination, all she could think was... *I've turned into a slut! A slut! Look at how I acted towards that kid. I didn't get out of his way, not even when I knew, I *knew * that he wasn't looking where he was going. * She'd gone too far this time. Catherine knew that she had tons of self-confidence. But never did she believe that she might escalate into a bitch! A bitch, that's what she was. And she hadn't even realized until now! Why hadn't she realized it until now? Maybe it was just the look on the guy's face. The way his face almost... convulsed in fear. Was she really that bad?  
  
Or maybe it was the shock she'd had this morning that had woken her up from her semi-permanent daze. She'd never really paid attention to what she was doing, preferring to think while her body went on auto-pilot. Maybe her revelation she'd had earlier that morning had set her on edge, made her more aware of her surroundings.  
  
That morning had been like any other morning. She was dropped off early on her mom's way to work. She hung out in the computer lab, just like she usually did. She didn't talk to anyone there, just stayed to herself, checking her email, and playing online games. After a few minutes the only other occupant of the lab left, presumably to go to the washroom. Catherine knew her vaguely, knew that she wasn't very popular. Knew that no one really liked her, and people avoided her, didn't want to be her partner in gym. She wasn't very good in school, and Catherine remembered gossiping about her more than once.  
  
She didn't remember how she got to the other's computer, but she did remember vividly the words that appeared on the screen.  
  
The typing was rough, with many spelling and punctuation errors. It looked like the girl had just started pounding the keyboard, not intending to go in any particular direction. There were no paragraphs separating the different ideas. There was no point as they changed from one to another quickly, without a pause in between.  
  
"I picked up the knives... I couldnt keep myself from them. They almost call to me. I tested them out. To see which ones were best. I tried the razor, but it didn't work at all. The knives weren't much better. The best they could do was leave pink marks behind, no blood. I'm wondering if they won't draw blood because I don't really want them to, or if my mother's knives are just dull. i dont know what to do... I'm so confused. I know one thing tho. I know that I cant live out my life like most peopl do. There's no point. I'm not sure what I'm hoping for when I die. I don't really think there will be a heaven or hell like a lot of people beleive. I'm thinking more like a never ending sleep. Or maybe death is what you want it to be. I don't know. I want to know. Why am I writing this? It's not a suicide note or anything. It's just that... I never told any one anything about wanting to die, so, maybe I thought that if i wrote about it then... i dont know. In any case, I can't save this. My fear is less of actually dying... but of NOT dying. If someone comes a long and i survive... It would be horrible. Would they put me into an institution, or what? But then everyone I knew would know my secret, and I don't want that. How would they react? So, when I do kill myself I'll have to make SURE that I die. I've seen too many shows and movie where there are survivors of suicide when they've slit their wrists. But i suppose that the ones who dont survive arent' very interesting. So... I don't know. I can't wait until I'm old enough to get a gun. Glass? That would probably cut very nicely compared to my moms knives. But where would i get any?? Hang myself? i dunno, a noose seems kinda complicated. I was never good at the knots in sailing class. I don't know... I just don't know..."  
  
Catherine paused for a second, shocked stiff. Then she remembered that the writer would probably be back very soon. She ran back to her computer. She stared at the screen, but she wasn't seeing it. Instead, she imagined the nameless girl killing herself, with barely anyone to attend the funeral. What would that be like for someone? Catherine didn't know, she'd always had tons of friends.  
  
The other girl reentered the room, and Catherine temporarily came back to her senses. She refocused on the screen, and started clicking like crazy, determined to make it seem like nothing had happened while she'd been gone.  
  
Even so, she couldn't help but sneak a look at the other girl's face. It was sort of sad, but not overly so. If she hadn't been paying attention, Catherine wouldn't have even noticed it.  
  
She'd started wondering if maybe she should start up a friendship with the girl, no matter what her other "friends" would think. Now that her mind was cleared, Catherine realized bitterly that her friends were just as bad as she had been. But she was determined to change that now. She would do anything, anything at all, to keep herself from becoming that mean person again.  
  
She was still pondering all of this when the bell rang at 8:30. She grabbed her bag and headed to her locker. She would figure it out on the way. But already she was nearing her destination, and she hadn't decided on anything.  
  
She dropped her backpack in front of her locker, and fiddled with her lock. It always seemed to take an eternity to open it up, maybe because she'd been using it for the past 5 years.  
  
Catherine sighed at the interruption in the form of her friend Jacki.  
  
"Like, oh my god!! Did you hear?! You know Jake, well guess what he did! He asked me out! Oh my god! Who does he think he is?! Nick or something? Hey, you think I could ask Nick to dance tonight? Oh, I bet he's a great dancer..."  
  
Catherine rolled her eyes at the senseless babbling. Had she really been like this before? No way.. Well, maybe just a bit. But she'd like to think that she was different, considering she'd actually had to work for her money.  
  
Since she was 10, Catherine had been working wherever she could find a job. Newspaper delivery, babysitting, waitress, pizza girl, none of them paid particularly well. She'd saved as much as she could, only spending money on food, clothing, and the bills. Her mother worked, but she didn't get paid enough to take care of everything.  
  
Catherine was ever increasingly aware of the upcoming graduation. She wanted- no, needed to go to college. She knew she was smart, but not smart enough to win a scholarship. While her friends would hang out at the local coffee shop, she would be working hard to earn money.  
  
It still wasn't enough. Even if she continued working every single day for the next 2 years until graduation she wouldn't have enough money. She needed another source of income, but she had no idea where it could come from. Definitely not her mother. Her mom could hardly provide for herself, let alone pay for college.  
  
Catherine tugged viscously at her lock, sighing as it finally came off. Jaki was still shrieking, this time about something she found hilariously funny. Catherine threw her locker open, only narrowly missing Jacki's face. Her mouth shut for a second, and Catherine welcomed that small relief from the headache that had been building up for a while now. Unfortunately, Jacki took the near miss as an accident, and began her screaming all over again. As Catherine looked at her, she could almost imagine Jacki as some large bird, possibly a crow. She let a small bitter smile escape, as she leaned against her open locker, digging her long nails into her temples. The attempt to rid herself of the headache backfired when she felt her nails draw blood. She stopped and looked down at her hands. Her nails, long, and sharp from lack of nail clippers, now had a small amount of blood clinging to the edges. She watched as a small drop fell to the floor.  
  
Her strange trance was broken by a change of tone in Jacki's voice.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Turning, a smaller girl came into Catherine's view. The girl was probably 2 years younger than her, and she was surprised that she hadn't noticed her before.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
The girl pushed towards them, and was about to kick the bag Catherine had dropped in front of her locker, but decided against it. "Excuse me." She said it louder this time, but she still seemed kind of... shy? Afraid?  
  
Catherine picked up her bag, and stuffed it into her locker. During all this Jacki had been silent, but now she started talking again. Ignoring her, Catherine turned to examine the girl. She realized that her locker must've been next to hers all year, but she'd never really noticed her. Searching her memories, she finally remembered that this same thing had happened almost every single day.  
  
She'd drop her bag carelessly in front of her locker, then sit down and chat with Jacki and a few others. The girl would arrive a few minutes later. She'd say, "excuse me" exactly 2 times, then Catherine would usually move her bag, complete with a snide comment about saying please and thank you. The girl would never say anything to her, but Catherine could tell that she hated her. The burning look in her eyes said it all. Before this morning she probably wouldn't have cared. But now...  
  
"Hey."  
  
The girl glanced at her, but didn't reply.  
  
Deterred for only a second, Catherine said the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"So, you going to the dance tonight?"  
  
The burning in the girl's eyes didn't dissipate any, but she replied politely.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Catherine was surprised. The first reason was that the girl didn't seem to be looking forward to the dance. The second reason was that a girl that seemed so shy would even bother to go the dance. Catherine had no idea why she'd asked the question anyways, she should have thought about it first. Now what could she say?  
  
"Umm, sorry but I don't really know your name."  
  
By now Jacki realized that no one was listening to her. Letting a small "hmph" sound escape her lips, she spun around and walked quickly away.  
  
"No you don't" The girl had by now finished getting her books, and was turning to leave.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
The girl turned, and Catherine started talking when she realized that a little blood was dripping from her temple. Carefully she flipped her hair so it would cover it up. She didn't want everyone to be asking her stupid questions about if she was ok, and what had happened to give her such a cut.  
  
"No seriously," She continued, "What's your name?"  
  
The girl's eyes were guarded, but she gave a straight answer this time.  
  
"Sara."  
  
Catherine watched as the girl turned again, but this time she didn't keep her from leaving. Her mind was filled with so many questions.  
  
Why did Sara seem so shy when her eyes seemed so angry? What could she do about the girl from the computer lab? How would she pay for college? Could she keep herself from becoming the mean person she was before? And most importantly: How could she get Jacki to just shut up and leave her alone already!  
  
Everyone: Thank you so much for reviewing this story and I really hope that you will continue to read and review it. Only 2 chapters until it will be finished! (Sara's chapter and the chapter with everyone in it.) Thanks again for the encouragement.  
  
A Bloom: That is a good idea; the only problem is that I know barely anything about Catherine's storyline on the show. I'm ashamed to saw that, while I have seen almost all the episodes, I haven't really paid much attention to Catherine. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Catherine just isn't my favorite character!  
  
Kady Rilla Wholi: I sort of did something different here. A lot different actually. I did like the idea of her not having much money, but I tried to focus more on what was happening at the school. And I can't really see her being sexually assaulted, just because she's so confident. And about the info on Sara... sure! I need all the help I can get. I won't promise I'll use your ideas though, because I already have sort of an idea of what I'm going to write.  
  
McCarthy Punk: Actually I really liked this idea and that's why I used it. I also liked how you didn't delve into it with tons of detail and all that. I like to play around with the idea, not have it all planned out for me.  
  
Charming-Storm: Yep! Thanks for the encouragement though!  
  
csi-freak03: Uh yeah, sorry about that. In the quotes from the show he says that he was a nerd, he had glasses, and big feet. I guess I just sort of imagined him as short. And I thought it was funnier when he runs into Catherine if he's short. I admit my mistake!  
  
icanreadncount: I'm trying not to use the same problems for more than one character. If you remember at the beginning I had Gil moving around lots, so I didn't think I should do that for Catherine as well.  
  
annie: I'm trying really hard to keep this story from turning into a shipper's convention. I know that some people do like these stories, (I admit that I've read one or 2 myself) but it just doesn't work for me. And you know, that's a really good idea. I would probably have used it if I thought that this chapter was long enough, and that I should post it already. And I am honored that I am the one to receive your longest review. I accept it graciously.  
  
csifan1: Good idea, but I tried to keep it focused more on school. Too many flashbacks can get very confusing. Thanks for the review though!  
  
Elina: Well, I'm glad you remembered this story! Without your late review I probably would have forgotten all about writing it. (I'm just kidding! I could never forget all of my great reviewers waiting for a new part!) But your review did get me off my butt (when I wasn't doing homework at least) and writing. (And thanks for at least trying to remember what movie it was. It doesn't really matter, I was just curious.) ( 


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